Abnormal Methods of Intervention
by crackers4jenn
Summary: An attempt to re-invite Pierce into the group goes horribly awry. Takes place in a world before 3x01 aired.


It starts as an intervention.

"Capitalize it," Abed tells Troy, who's in charge of designing a banner. So far he's written _get ready 'cause it's your intervention_ in pen on a massive scroll of paper. Annie huffs, but makes no other noise. Her point is obvious: if _she_ was in charge of the decorations as she would've liked to have been, capitalization would be a no-brainer.

"You breathe weird," Troy tells her.

Annie makes a different, more annoyed sound. "Whatever, Troy."

Troy mimics her breathing, which: definitely weird.

"Ugh, guys," Britta cuts in. She's sitting on the floor, fiddling with some scissors and tubes of glue-glitter, very much bored. "_I'm_ about to be the weird-breather. This is one of those times when you need to ask yourselves, 'Am I being immature? What can I do to not be immature?'"

Under her breath, Annie deadpans, "Because it works _so well_ for you."

"Uh, hell _yeah._You wish you were as mature as me."

"Please! You're the least mature one here! You're so immature, you're practically premature."

Troy makes an, "OHHHHHHHHHH, TINY BABY-BURN," noise of OH SNAP IT'S ON, decorations abandoned.

"Guys," Jeff says. He is there, too, at his usual seat with his usual lethargy. "Focus. You're _all_ immature." For his participation, he's on the receiving end of muttered insults. His forehead takes the brunt of the abuse.

"I don't know why the banner needs to be capitalized, anyway," Troy says. "It's not like Pierce is even gonna notice."

When it comes to having faith in Pierce, Annie is the last holdout, which is why she gets defensive and tells Troy, "You don't know that."

"Uh, have you ever lived with Pierce? Because I have, and it's given me a lot of insight into the way his brain works. For one, I know that he drinks something called Life Force for breakfast. I tried it once. I didn't taste any force, but I think I downed some life. Nasty stuff."

Still, Annie plays it annoyingly hopeful. "Let's give Pierce a little credit. I mean, he could really wind up surprising us all."

"Yeahhhhhh," Jeff drawls, barely looking up from his phone. "You're thinking of some other senile geriatric of Greendale. We know how Pierce operates. Troy, apparently, on a horrifyingly intimate level."

Troy agrees with a solemnly spoken, "I swore I wasn't ever gonna say anything, but. He has a _pillow_ shaped like _Shirley_."

"WHAT?" squawks Shirley, pulled away for the first time from the computer where she'd been happily watching baby monitor footage of Ben asleep at home with Andre. "That's not funny, Troy."

"Trust me, I know. I walked in on him trying to text sexually suggestive messages to it once." Troy curls in on himself. "THE MEMORIES."

Shirley shakes her head, too upset for words.

"See!" Annie points out. "Admit it. That's not so bad! It could be way worse. He could've been doing... R-rated things... to pillow-Shir**—**"

"STOP RIGHT THERE."

"Face it," Britta says, standing up. She collapses into her normal study table spot beside Jeff, all lazy and giving up. "We're wasting our time here. Pierce won't change."

Troy uncurls from his emotional ball. He throws his pen. "Agreed."

Annie's line of sight skitters over to Abed. The intervention is his idea anyway. The idea to intervene and re-friend Pierce, who, in their third year, has fallen into a forced camaraderie with the Hipsters again.

"Abed?" she says.

Abed just shrugs. "I can't corral troops who carry this amount of discouragement."

"So, we're agreed," Jeff says. He pushes out of his chair. "We should give up on the idea of inviting Pierce back."

Shirley looks near sickness. "Personally, I wouldn't mind never hearing that name again."

Britta's pushing in her chair as well. "We tried."

Outraged, Annie gets to her feet. "Tried?" she repeats. The scale of CRAZY swings in her direction. "This is you guys _trying_? We didn't even do anything! We _started_ to organize an intervention, but Troy couldn't make it past lowercase letters, Jeff hasn't taken his eyes off his phone once **—** we're seriously giving up already?"

"Annie," Shirley delicately coos, not wanting to further set her off, but needing, too, to let Annie know that it's nice that she cares so much, but this? This is a pointless cause. Besides, does she not remember the pillow-shaped debauchery?

But Annie cuts her off, pointing a stern finger. "_No_." She gets more desperate. "What does it say about us as a family if we're not even willing to fight for each other? If we just _abandon_ one another because it's the easiest thing to do?"

Jeff uses his _I'm the dad_ voice to attempt to calm her. He tries reason first: "First of all, we didn't abandon Pierce. He walked out on us, remember?"

"Only after we pushed him away!"

"Oh, give me a break," Britta says. "Pierce pushed himself away, and I'm not going to sit here and be guilted for not throwing myself over hurdles to get him back."

"Of course not," Annie says back, mean. "Why would you?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

Annie sniffs, nose up in the air. "Nothing." Then, "Just that it's really not surprising you're choosing the selfish route. After all, it's the road most traveled, isn't it?"

"And _you_ playing Little Orphan Annie to Pierce's Daddy Warbucks is a billion levels of selfless. _NOT_."

Jeff side-steps in front of Britta, serving as a giant barricade. "Can we not turn an already wasted afternoon into a hair-pulling contest?"

"I agree with Jeff," Shirley says. "Girls, there's no need to get personal."

"This _is _personal," Annie defends. She laughs, then, totally humorless. "I should've known. I don't know why I expected any of you to care about anyone other than yourselves."

"Hey," Troy says, stung. "I care. Just not about Pierce. He kicked me out of his mansion, you know. I had to move back in with my dad, and do you know what it's like living in a place known only as _The Sex Cave_? It's traumatizing. Like watching _The Human Centipede_. You can't erase those memories."

Jeff is looking at Annie through narrow, all-knowing eyes. "What's this really about? And don't say Pierce. This isn't about Pierce, because not even _you _are that naive you can't see how toxic he really is."

The word _naive_ lands like a blow. She rocks back, hurt. "I guess," she says, and her voice is shrill, high-pitched because she's holding back tears. It's anger, not sadness, that has her on edge. "I guess I overestimated everyone else's level of interest."

She swings around to the couches, grabs her ridiculously stuffed backpack. "Believe me," she tells them, "I won't be making that mistake again." And then she storms out of there on an impressive swell of emotions, leaving only a stretched out silence in her wake.

"Well _that_was unnecessarily melodramatic," Britta murmurs, but it's met with cleared throats and glances that stray elsewhere.

"We should clean up," Abed says.

Jeff lets out a noisy exhale. "Yeah," he says, but he bails and leaves them to gather the left behind supplies. 

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, Pierce shows up. He bellows as he enters the room, "What's up, gaywads! You wanted to see me? Let me guess: you're sorry and you've come groveling back." But it's empty, not a person in sight.<p>

Piece's shoulders sag. He stands there until Chang slinks up from behind, clamping a creepy hand on his shoulder.

"Hurts. Doesn't it? Being left out. Constantly ignored. Getting lied to."

Pierce shakes Chang's hand off his shoulder. "Eat me."

"What d'ya say? You. Me. Taking the study group down one jerk at a time. I heard Annie's already gone rogue."

Pierce's interest is automatic, but he smothers it down fast. "Who cares. Good for her. She's stupid, so. I don't care."

Chang's easygoing smile slides into a smirk. "So, brain-trust, we snag her while she's vulnerable. Form our own group."

"I already have a group, dumb ass. Besides, why would Annie join up with the likes of you and me?"

Chang slithers around Pierce, stopping in front of him. "Let's just say I overheard some _interesting_ things."

Pierce's look turns accusing. "Were you in the vent again?"

"So! That vent is warm and cozy, like a metal-plated womb-cocoon. It makes me feel safe!"

Pierce stares and stares, and then decides, "Fine. I'm in. But only if Annie's in, too, otherwise, you're weird and I don't like you and this conversation never happened."

"Ditto, and _yesssssss_." 

* * *

><p>Annie's in the chicken finger line, very purposely lagging behind the rest of the study group. Who she has spent a full day and a half ignoring.<p>

Chang cuts in front of her, making her crafted look of boredom harden into a glare. "Hey! There's a line."

"It's not chicken fingers I'm craving."

Annie's glare crumbles into a quick and very real disgust. "Oh, gross!" she says, backing away, but Chang sighs.

"Cut me a little slack, here. I may be a slimeball, but I'm not _THAT_ big of one. I want to talk to you." He leans in and lowers his voice. "In private."

Reluctant to agree, Annie hesitates, making Chang drop a bomb: "With Pierce."

So Annie commits to meeting up with the two of them after lunch, in some abandoned storage closet just off the East stairwell. When she gets there, having been told to knock three times, the door swings open from the inside. It's Pierce, and he gravely tells her, "Come in."

"...okay," she says, slipping through.

Chang stands atop a stack of aged textbooks. It puts him at the same height as Pierce, which, Annie assumes, is the effect he was going for.

"We have a proposal for you," he says.

"Okay?"

"I want you to listen very closely. Mentally scrub away everything you know about**—**"

"Join our study group!" Pierce busts out with.

Chang stomps his foot. "What the hell, bro! I wanted it to sound more bad ass than that. Way to ruin everything!"

Annie blurts, "You have a study group?"

"Sort of," Pierce says.

"Maybe," adds Chang. "That depends."

"On?"

"You?" And then Chang laughs, really awkwardly.

"I thought..." Annie's gaze lands on Pierce. "Aren't you with the Hipsters?"

Pierce waves that away. "Those brittle sacks of saggy-boobed lameness? I quit 'em after they kept wanting me to raid the Dean's secret stash. There's only so much hard candy a man can take."

Annie meets Chang's eyes. "What about you? Weren't you supposed to be part of the old study group?"

"I could say the same about you."

She winces, the wound still too new.

Chang jumps off his stack of books. "Check it, baby Nemo, it's like this: you're a tiny fish lost in the big, bad sea. Join us."

"...Baby Nemo?"

"Or, whatever." Chang rolls his shoulders. "Insert some cutesy Disney nickname of the week Jeff always had for you. Isn't that what you want to hear?"

She throws her arms over her chest and declares, almost violently, "_No_."

He moves closer. "Join us."

Pierce steps forward too. "What do you say, Annie?"

Together they take another step.

"This is getting weird," Annie tells them.

"Screw the Spanish study group," Chang says, with a wave, like he's shooing them away. "You know what's cool? _Not_ Spanish."

Annie eyes them both with something like distrust. Then, realizing that her only other options at this point are spending the year alone or apologetically slinking back to the group, she breathes out, "Fine!" 

* * *

><p>Troy notices the trio first.<p>

"Uh, what's Annie doing with Chang? And Pierce? Am I dreaming?" He rapidly blinks his eyes. "Is any of this real?"

Jeff looks up from his phone. Across the dining hall, Pierce, Chang, and Annie are all sharing a table. It doesn't look like it's accidental either, which would mean...

"Great," he sighs, placing his phone onto the table. "She's Benedict Arnold-ing us. Dammit."

"She can't do that," Troy says, starting to worry. "I depend on her for my grades. My grades depend on her for not getting me kicked out of school."

"We _all _depend on her for our grades," Jeff drawls, realizing, then, how true that is, and how screwed that made them.

Britta pops a celery stick into her mouth. "Speak for yourself. I can grub my own grades, thank you very much. I don't need Annie or her single-spaced, supernaturally thorough notes."

Troy pales. "Oh, god. I'm gonna fail. I'm gonna fail and become one of those statistics you're always hearing about! I need Pierce here to tell me what statistics he's always talking about. I need Annie _AND _Pierce!"

"Calm down," Jeff tells him, annoyingly calm.

"YOU CALM DOWN!" Troy shouts back.

Shirley forces a smile. She says through it, "I think we _all_ should calm down."

"I knew this couldn't last," Abed says, making Britta glower around a handful of celery.

"What couldn't?"

"This. Us. With both Pierce and Annie gone, it was only a matter of time before we dismantled."

"We're not a used waterbed," Jeff drawls back, the sarcasm heavy. "We're not dismantling."

"Easy for you to say. You have nothing to lose."

Jeff actually bristles. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're the aloof one," Abed says by way of explanation. "If the group breaks up, it's no skin off your back. You'll go through the next two years at Greendale with minimal traces of remorse, but you won't have any regrets. Actually, you may even be relieved."

Shirley's giving Jeff a look that rivals Annie's wounded one. "Jeffrey? Is that true?"

"Of course it's true," scoffs Britta. "We all know it. Jeff's going to walk through life being sentimentally attached to only his mirror."

"Wow," says Jeff. "Low. That's what you really think of me?"

"Guys, this isn't a fight," Abed tries, but Britta's started to wield her celery like a weapon.

"Oh, what, that you're a selfish, egotistical jackass who still, after two whole years, can't even muster up the maturity to refer to any one of us as a friend?"

"That's true," Troy lobs on. "Jeff's always on his phone, but who's he talking to? Not us. Jeff _never _talks to us."

"What is this, the third grade? I talk to you all the time! I'm talking right now."

Shirley clears her throat. "Not to join in on the mobbing, but. I never hear from you on holidays or vacations, Jeffrey."

"That's because they're holidays! And vacations! Holy crap, seriously. You guys are pissed because I don't _text_ you more?"

"You text everyone else," Shirley reasons, gesturing to Jeff's phone where he's already had nearly a dozen texts come through during their conversation.

He snags it. "Fine," he growls. "You want to be texted? I'll text. I'll text the crap out of you!"

"Oh, like we want your shame-texts," Britta says.

"Too bad, you're getting my shame-texts!"

Jeff starts violently hitting keys on his phone. After four seconds, he sets the phone back down and gloats, "There."

Half a second later, their phones collectively buzz. They open Jeff's text as a group and read:

_screw you_

Shirley's face narrows into a scowl. "That's real mature of you."

"Dude," says Troy. "Not cool."

Britta stands and grabs her tray. "I'm outtie. Let me know when you've grown the hell up."

Shirley follows after Britta. "Wait for me!" she says.

"Yeah, so. I got that thing with that... class," Troy announces, and he bails as well.

Three seconds of strained silence blow by.

Abed breaks it **—** unnaturally detached, of course. "I expected that."

"Really?" snarks Jeff. "Awesome. Congratu**—**_WHO CARES_!"

Abed points a finger. "That too."

A muscle in Jeff's jaw ticks, which is Abed's cue to exit the scene.

"Annie was right, you know. We give up pretty easy."

Then he's gone too, and Jeff's left with a clear view of Pierce, Chang, and Annie, who are completely, utterly oblivious to what's gone on. 

* * *

><p>Jeff, Abed, and Troy are the only ones who show for their usual study group meeting later that day. Britta does send Jeff a text, though, and it says:<p>

_lemme know when you sprout into adulthood. then we might be back._

"So," he says, after reading it. There's an uncomfortable tension leftover from lunch already in the room. "Britta and Shirley have decided to act like twelve-year olds."

"Figured as much," Abed tells him.

Jeff's head falls back. "Really? Because you could've said something, oh, _ten minutes ago_!"

"Hey, don't take your madness out on him," Troy defends his other half.

"Shut up, Troy."

Troy's eyes go wide. Then he pushes back in his chair, making the thing topple over. He swipes his binder, eyes on Jeff. "I tried, Abed. But I can't handle this right now."

Troy turns and leaves, and Jeff calls after him, "Yeah, like I even care! Leave!" Which Troy does, with a parting glance that makes Jeff feel two inches tall.

"There it is." A decisive nod by Abed. "Dismantled."

It hits Jeff, then, in a surprisingly hard way. "Yeah," he murmurs after a minute. "I guess so."

Abed stands. He offers a wave that makes a wide arc. "See you around, Jeff."

And, easily, just like that, he walks out of the room. 

* * *

><p>Jeff spots Annie in the hallway in front of him. She's alone and distracted, trying to search through her backpack while walking.<p>

Perfect.

Jeff closes the gap between them, grabs her at the crook between her elbow, and pulls.

"Hey!" she says before she realizes who it is. And then she recognizes him, and her glare only darkens. She tries to jerk away, but Jeff steers her towards the nearest empty room. Which just so happens to be a storage closet.

She doesn't go in easy **— **it probably looks like some kind of mauling to the unknown eye, and Jeff is vaguely aware that he must be coming across as some sort of pervy predator, but he doesn't care. He pushes her into the room and shuts the door after them, enclosing them in darkness.

"Oh, real nice," she lectures.

His hands grope the wall near the door, but there's no switch, at least none that he can feel. Then, suddenly, the light pops on, and Annie stands there in the middle of the room looking triumphant. Her arm is raised and in her hand is a string, which she has very obviously just pulled.

"Right," Jeff says. "Good."

Annie drops the pose, and the humor, and gets defensive. "Explain yourself," she demands.

It seemed easier as a hypothetical his brain pitched mere seconds before. The idea being: explain to Annie that they messed up, the group is over, and he needs her help to get it back. But voicing that out loud is like admitting that he needs the group. More than that, that he _wants_ the group. And, yeah, that much is obvious, but why does he have to _say_it?

Annie's eyes go wide. "Well?"

Instead he says, "You're with Chang and Pierce now?"

Her cheeks actually turn pink. She softens a little. "Not that it's any of your business, but. Yes. I am."

"Why?"

"It's none of your business," she repeats.

"Hey, awesome. You want to use elementary school tactics? Because I can use elementary school tactics. I just figured you wanted to talk, as adults."

She starts to falter **—** then something cold takes over, and she stiffens her shoulders. "That's new. Aren't we usually having one-sided conversations where you're the adult and I'm the kid?"

He sighs. "Annie."

"What? It's true. C'mon, Jeff." She actually slinks a step closer, playing this from a new, weird angle. "Don't you want to pat me on the head? Maybe... give me a friendly _thump_ on the arm? You know, solidify that I'm just a girl and you're a grown man."

He stares down at her, impressed despite himself. And, he realizes, genuinely apologetic. "Look," he heaves out, this screw-it-all sigh. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm emotionally void. I have the word 'BANKRUPT' literally tattooed where my soul should be."

Annie's eyes widen again, but with a different kind of emotion. There's surprise there, too. "Why are you telling me this?"

Jeff lets out another sigh, leaning back against the door. He goes weightless against it. "The group broke up."

Annie takes this news by falling onto a nearby sturdy-looking crate. "Oh."

"I guess... you were right. We were all selfish."

Her head whips up, her gaze burning into his. "It's not like I wanted this. Because I didn't."

"Yeah, well." He shrugs.

"So," she says. "That's it. The group's over?"

"Looks like."

She stands up, brushing her hands on her skirt. "That's too bad." She moves to the door, where Jeff's still leaning, and it has him straightening back up.

"Here's the thing," he says, as a last hope. "It's fixable."

Annie pauses at that. Jeff takes advantage of it, struggling with the right thing to say. "This is hard. Nothing about this is easy. Admitting that we made a mistake, or that you were right, or that everyone avoiding each other _sucks_. I put two years into our friendship **— **like hell I'm going to let one stupid fight take that away. So, we fix it."

"Why come to me?" she asks. "Really. Why not Britta? Or Abed?"

"Because," he says, serious. "You care. Most times, to an annoyingly unrelenting fault."

"So? Like I said. Why not Britta? Heck, what about Shirley? She's invested, too."

"Not like you."

She hesitates. "The intervention**—**"

"Was a pointless idea from the start. I'm serious. Pierce wasn't going to respond to it, because he's _Pierce_. But," he concedes, "the message behind the poorly conceived plan was right. You were right. We were selfish, and we pushed Pierce away."

Annie badly attempts to hide the immediate rush of joy that hits her. She's pretty much preening.

"So," she says, obviously pleased in all areas of the ego. "How do we fix it?" 

* * *

><p>First, they go large scale.<p>

"Operation Dining Hall Hazard is a go. I repeat. Operation Dining Hall Hazard is a go."

Jeff stares the stare of the super judgmental at Annie from just outside the cafeteria's double doors. "For the record, I'm deleting this moment from my memory cave in three seconds."

Annie just beams rainbows at him, all affection.

"So," he says, eyes locked dead and serious on the lunchtime scene ahead of them. A glance through the small rectangular window shows Britta off in the far corner of a private booth, sitting solo, while Shirley is in a group setting with people they have never seen before. Pierce and Chang are together, arguing, while Abed and Troy stand in line for chicken fingers. "Ready?"

Annie gives Jeff a solemn nod, an affirmation that their plan's wheels? Are about to be set in motion. She slips past him, into the busy, bustling dining hall, and goes straight for the frozen yogurt machine. There, she takes sly glances at her study group friends. They're all focused on not being focused on each other. She fills a cup up with vanilla soft serve, then tops it with an abundance of peanuts and M&Ms.

Phase 1: complete.

Nonchalantly, she sneaks a glance back towards Jeff. He's moving through the cafeteria now, looking like a man concerned only with lunch.

"Hey, guys," Annie says, to Pierce and Chang, who eyeball her suspiciously. She gathers a spoonful of frozen yogurt, heavy with her added toppings, and takes a bite. Then, bam. Phase 2: believable choking scene. She calls on her previous experience in this department for accuracy, managing to put on an acceptable performance, though she does hear some kid two tables over mutter, "What the hell, yo? Is that a stroke?"

"HOLY SCHNIKES," Britta cries out, eyes alert to the unfolding potential crisis. "MEDICAL EMERGENCY. STEP ASIDE, PEOPLE."

The zero people that are smothering Annie with their concern obey, while Britta pushes to her feet and struggles in her urgency to rescue Annie from her Super Fake Choking. Pierce is torn between helping and pretending to not know who she is, while Troy and Abed do their high-five chest slap that means they are probably imagining themselves as masked and caped superheroes; Shirley clutches her chest.

The transition to Phase 3 is flawless. Before Britta gets there, Jeff rushes in for some super familiar Heimliching. Only he miscalculates his forward momentum and winds up groping at Annie's chest instead of around her middle, which is so unexpected and new and awkward that Annie forgets that she is supposed to not currently be breathing and gasps, "Jeff!" in horror and a confusing but undeniable delight.

Their friends are _smart_, because right away Britta halts, Troy and Abed drop their shtick, and Shirley springs to her feet. She points a harsh, damning finger and declares, "LUNCHTIME PERVERSION."

Pierce chuckles, actually looking awed at Jeff's scandalizing hold. "Knew you two were porking. Called it!"

"Dude," adds Chang, nodding big. "I might not teach at this school anymore, but _A-plus_, Winger."

Jeff recoils. Annie inhales and almost chokes for real.

"Wow, Jeff. Really?" Britta gets scarily up in his face. "Taking advantage of the young and medically compromised?"

"It's not what you think," he is fast to defend. Like, lawyer-fast.

"PERVERT," repeats Shirley, with an eagerness in her voice that invites a lynching.

Sure enough, the cafeteria starts to boo, this collective uprising. Jeff gives Annie some serious BAIL ME OUT HERE eyes, but things escalate too quickly into a mobbing that ends with Jeff covered in food and tsked at by Dean Pelton. He is then hoisted to the top of Greendale's Affectionate Offenders list, to the cheers of all. 

* * *

><p>"That was awesome," Jeff snarks later that same day. He drags a towel over his head, cleaning off the creamed corn that'd been chucked at him. "That was so awesome, I want to do it again, just to relive how awesome it was. And just in case my voice has lost all inflection, I'M USING SARCASM."<p>

"They _swarmed_ so _quickly_," Annie recalls with a great intensity, reliving those final moments when the crowd fully turned on Jeff. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Agreed. Greendale is the worst."

"I can't believe Shirley started a _'Baptize Jeff!'_chant."

"I can't believe it caught on."

Annie's eyes start to glow, very maniacally. "New plan," she says. 

* * *

><p>Early the next day, much too early for falsehoods and manipulations, Jeff meets up with Annie outside of the library. The sun is unnaturally bright, the temperature around them stale and frigid. Annie's stuffed inside several layers of hideously colored clothing, clutching at her backpack straps, practically stuck in a circular prowl.<p>

"There you are!" she heaves out in relief when she spots him. She rushes his way, a crazy kind of enthusiastic for any time of the day, let alone so early in the morning.

"COFFEE," she barks at him, and he thinks **—** yeah, that would do it **— **but then she thrusts a warm, steaming styrofoam cup into his hand, urging him to drink up.

"Thanks."

They spend ten minutes going over yesterday's hastily conceived plan, one that, by the way, Jeff, having worn the brunt of all that previous backfiring, is reluctant to commit to.

"Don't be," Annie tells him. Incredibly, it doesn't exactly lift his worries.

"Besides," she adds, "this time it's shouldered on me, so you? Are in the clear."

Shirley is suddenly seen exiting the parking lot, cheerfully headed for her morning class.

"Looks like it's time to go _dunk some souls_," Annie pointedly says, using her THE PLAN IS IN MOTION voice, and Jeff just stares, super judgmentally once more. She catches it and awkwardly tacks on, "What? You don't like it?"

"Go," he urges, before Shirley's gone.

With a huff, she regroups, shakes out her shoulders, grabs anew at her backpack straps, and gives Jeff one last nod before setting off.

"Shirley!" she cries out, catching up from behind.

Shirley turns, pleased to see Annie. After all, it's been days since they last sat and talked. Plus, after that whole Jeff/groping incident, Shirley's felt the maternal pulls of wanting to comfort and/or gossip about that lunchtime debauchery.

"Annie," she coos back, her tone one of genuine delight. "So nice to see you! Looking all untroubled and non-traumatized!"

Annie manages to pull off a smile, though its struggles to lift at the corner are born out of guilt and embarrassment. Jeff had grabbed boobs. Her boobs.

"About that," she says. "In light of all that public**—**"

"Lewdness?" Shirley fills in, pleasantly.

Awkward. "I guess you could say the guilt's been eating away at me**—**"

"Oh, _Annie_. You have nothing to feel guilty about it! You can't help it God gave you the gifts He did, and that men like Jeff can't seem to keep their hands off of 'em. Always knew that boy was trouble. It's in his eyes. Soulless things."

Together, they pass through the library's double doors, headed down the West Hall. So far, things are spiraling in a direction Annie hadn't quite anticipated.

"I just have _so_ many confusing emotions about what happened, so... I was coming to you. For guidance. Spiritually."

Shirley stops them mid-stroll. Her hands clasp. Her eyes turn into giant exclamation marks of interest.

"OH, ANNIE, THAT'S SO**—**"

All of a sudden, Annie notices a flier on the wall. She cuts Shirley off by edging closer for a better view. It's a flier warning of Jeff's perverted intentions. There's a horrible grainy picture from yesterday, one obviously taken by cell phone, of Jeff giving Annie the failed Heimlich **—**she's horrified to see that it really does look like he's doing illicit, inappropriate things to her, and instantly a blush spreads up her neck, across her face.

Shirley notices what's caught Annie's attention, and she lets out a loud tsking noise.

"First Britta, now you. That man's a ruiner." Haughtily, she draws her sweater close. "I'm just glad I managed to avoid the lecherous trappings of his kiss."

Annie rips the flier off the wall, never mind how that must look, and says, "Excuse me," to Shirley **—** then she flees. 

* * *

><p>"Holy crap," Jeff says, of the flier that Annie is shoving in his face.<p>

"Jeff! They think you're a**—**" She scans the surrounding area, just in case there are eavesdroppers, and lowers her voice to whisper slash hiss, "_PERVERT_."

"Yeah. I got that."

"What are we going to do?"

He's still looking at the flier, and when Annie realizes that he's smirking over what the image implies **—** namely, a shocking act of public affection **— **she jerks it from view and, very pointedly, shoves it into the zippered pouch at the front of her backpack.

"Can you at least pretend to be mature about this? Don't you care? Think of your reputation! Oh, no. What if _the Dean_ sees this?"

"Ten to one?" Jeff wages. "That picture's his work."

Catching them off guard, there is a rustling noise from some nearby bushes, a sudden emerging figure, and then**—**

"STEP AWAY FROM ANNIE'S BOOBS," warns Troy, dressed head to toe in clothes that look mostly held together by black tape. He also has a mask made out of cardboard and a pillowcase tied around his neck, as a cape.

Abed bursts from the shrubs seconds after, landing into a battle-ready position, his fists raised. "You heard T-Tron America. Unhand her, and no one gets hurt."

"Guys," Jeff says, hands up in an easy surrender. "Most innocent conversation _ever._"

"Yeah," Annie is quick to agree. "We were just talking. It's not what you think."

Troy shakes his head. "I've seen this before. Stalk Home syndrome. That's when a dude stalks a girl so much, she falls in love with him. Most obvious example? _Twilight_."

"_Twilight_," Abed murmurs disapprovingly. "A movie that gives offense to vampires, werewolves, and screenwriters everywhere."

"First of all, I think you clowns mean _Stockholm _syndrome," Jeff corrects with his usual amounts of patronization.

"And," Annie informs them, with some sting, "there have been way worse movies made then _Twilight_. Like," she points out, "that gross _Kickpuncher _movie you two like."

Troy gasps. Abed gasps. They gasp again together.

"I think Annie _wants_ us to release her back into her stalker's home, Super Awesome Abed. What do you think?"

"Super Awesome Abed?" Jeff repeats. "Wow."

All of a sudden, the bush starts to shake again, and Britta comes tumbling out. Literally. She rolls into an off-balanced position, then surges to her feet, as ridiculously dressed as Troy and Abed.

"Jeff Winger," she announces, "you have the right to shut your mouth-hole, douchenozzle."

Jeff's gaze roams up and down her body. Not with a leer, but with a pleased-as-can-be smirk. Britta looks insane and adorable, all at once.

Feeling judged, she squirms and defends her life choices. "What? It seemed like fun. And," she adds, in control once more, "we're here to bring down the guillotine of justice! Consider yourself smacked in the face by civil arrest!"

Annie slips closer to Jeff. "Can they do that?" she worries.

Jeff tilts her way and murmurs out the side of his mouth, "Let me answer that with a suggestion." Then, "RUN!"

Jeff bursts off in one direction; Annie, after only a moment's hesitation, in the other.

"Dammit!" shouts Britta. She shoves Troy towards Jeff and yells, "Go, go, go!"

"I can't run like this!" Troy cries as he goes, pushing forward at a stiff, awkward pace. His knees are practically locked in place.

"Tape was a bad choice," Abed acknowledges, before taking off after Annie. "BLAM-O!" is his yelled battle-cry.

Britta sighs and chases behind Troy and Jeff. 

* * *

><p>Annie's pacing that abandoned storage closet when the door bangs open. It's just Jeff, though, and her relief is audible.<p>

"Were you followed?" she asks, but it's not even fully formed, because right as the words start spilling the door creaks open another few inches, revealing Troy and Britta.

She gasps. It's instinct.

"Well, well," Troy drawls, "looks like we found your hidden stalker's lair."

"I led you directly to it," Jeff throws back, annoyed.

"Found. Led. Just words, Jeff."

Jeff glares the glare of _Are you mentally unfit?_ which makes Britta perk up and take a step to the side. It's then that Annie notices they both have a grip on Jeff. How did they even catch him? She knows from experience that he's _fast_. Jeff just stares back guiltily, like he knows what she's thinking.

Troy moves forward and takes Annie by the arm.

"Follow us," he says. 

* * *

><p>They're taken to the library study room, where Pierce, Abed, and Shirley are sitting in their usual seats.<p>

Jeff and Annie exchange a confused glance.

With his pillowcase-cape fluttering, Abed pops up just as Troy guides Annie to her spot at the table and Britta manhandles Jeff to his.

"Guys?" Annie says, sitting. Jeff, Troy, and Britta do the same, while Abed starts to circle.

"You're probably wondering why you're here. It occurred to me two days ago, during certain cafeteria hours now made infamous because of cell phone cameras and YouTube, that unfolding events, while memorable, had an essence one might call... scripted." Abed delivers this last part while leaning towards Annie, who lets out a small noise of guilt and avoids eye contact. Satisfied, he keeps moving, headed around the table.

"Normally our interactions, even individual scenes, are more cohesive. Believable. One hundred percent convincing in their sincerity. You two?" he says, behind Troy now, with his finger casting accusations back and forth between Annie and Jeff. "Amateurs. That was levels of _bad_ not seen since the days of _Silver Spoons_."

"_Hey_," Jeff says, because that, people, is an _insult_.

"Just telling it like it is, Jeff."

"Congratulations," he drawls. "You foiled our crack schemes."

"Actually," he says, and here he delivers the day's biggest blow: "It was Pierce who tipped us off."

Cued, Pierce titters in his seat, pretty much vibrating with joy.

"You?" Jeff asks. There is a large amount of disbelief. "How?"

"Please," he says. "It was obvious you two were pulling a ruse. Annie letting you fondle her; harassing Shirley; steamy makeout sessions in storage closets**—**"

The whole table goes, "WHAT?" at that last part, except for Abed. He nods.

"We definitely didn't**—**" Annie's too embarrassed to repeat Pierce, so she settles for a vague hand wave, saying, "_all of that_."

"Okay," Pierce chuckles.

Abed tells them, "Pierce noticed something was off, and came to me." 

* * *

><p>(Two days ago, post-dining hall scandal.<p>

"Hey. Ay-bed."

"Pierce."

"FYI, the group is stupid and you're all gay and I don't care, but. Annie and Jeff are screwing each other, which means they're screwing over you guys."

"Annie and Jeff? Hm. Things _did _seem slightly more off than usual today. At first I thought we were switching gears again, into a romance-comedy, but mystery noir works too."

"Wake up and smell the sex pheromones. They're porking."

"That doesn't really make sense."

"Ask yourself this. Why would Annie desert your group, only to join mine, only to never even show up? Does that sound like the Annie we know? And where's Jeff? Why's he always going into closets? Outside of the obvious, of course: gay.") 

* * *

><p>"After that," Abed says, "I took my suspicions over to Troy." <p>

* * *

><p>(Two days ago, post-talk with Pierce.<p>

"Troy."

"Other half," was Troy's immediate response.

"Jeff and Annie? They're up to something. Something _suspicious_."

Troy shot up, a delirious gleam in his eyes. "On it.") 

* * *

><p>"And <em>I<em> carried those thoughts over to Britta," says Troy, eyes locked in a stare-off with Jeff. 

* * *

><p>(Two days ago, post-Abed's worries.<p>

"**—**something _suspicious_," Troy repeated for Britta.

"Wowzers. You're sure?"

"Surer than you must've been before thinking the word _wowzers_ was a good idea."

"Suck it, Troy.") 

* * *

><p>"Yep," confirms Britta.<p>

"Then those doubts started coming my way," Shirley picks up. She side-glances at Annie. "I knew there was something off about you the other day. Asking about _spiritual beliefs_." She snorts. 

* * *

><p>(Yesterday, post-wowzers debacle.<p>

"It's not right. Annie coming to me on behalf of some fake spiritual side. What does she think I am, some kind of traveling church on legs?"

Britta almost laughed. Then she noticed Shirley's glare and sobered up quick and said, "It's not just her. Jeff and Annie both are raising some seriously red flags. I think we're Scoobying up to jinkies them out. You didn't hear it here, but capes may be involved.") 

* * *

><p>"So," Abed drops back in, still circling, "we decided to meet up to figure things out once and for all. Why the need for scripted scenarios of unresolved sexual tension and religious camaraderie? What's the plot? Where I expected chaos, there was only order. We worked like a team to foil your plans, just like the good ol' days. Pierce, too. You could even say you drove us back together."<p>

Jeff glances at Annie with a smirk that boasts of sweet, sweet victory, because it's true. Everyone looks friendly and comfortable once more, all the previous tension gone. "Hell yeah we did."

Pleased with that, Annie clasps her hands on the table in front of her and preens.

"Good god, you're like cats in heat," Pierce comments.

Jeff scoffs out his nose and pulls a face that tells of great, unspeakable horror, while Annie clears her throat and wonders, "Wait, so. Does this mean what I think it does? The group. We're... back on again?"

They're all looking at Abed for an answer, but he's staring at Pierce, who glows at the treatment.

"Words were said last year," he announces, shrugging this truth away, "words that I can barely even remember, it was so long ago. And I like this group."

"Same here," Shirley adds.

"For better or worse," Britta agrees, "I'm in this thing."

"What they said," says Troy.

"And with you two porking," Pierce gestures at Jeff and Annie, "I figure, someone with influence and raw, carnal power needs to stand watch and make sure our Greendale princess doesn't become spoiled goods."

The rest of the table murmurs their agreements, albeit reluctantly.

"For the last time, we're _not_**—**" Jeff cuts himself off, breathing out a stress-relieving exhale. It's not even worth it. "You know what? Never mind. Welcome back," he says instead, and means it.

In the spirit of celebration, arms are raised and a group hug is shared by all. Even though it's a week into the new school year, they spend the next twenty minutes recounting their summer tales, and then five minutes after that watching Troy and Abed dart around the room in their superhero get-up. 

* * *

><p>"So," Jeff says, walking out with Annie. "We did it."<p>

Annie smiles back, big. "Yep! _Yay _us."

"You realize this means we'll eventually be forced into more crack schemes later in the school year. There's no way we can last peacefully for long."

"Good thing we're so good at it," she teases, nudging into him with a wayward elbow.

They hit outside air, pushing through the library's exit, and at the same time they both stop and swivel around to face one another.

"Well. _Thanks_," Annie says, looking genuinely grateful. "For coming to me. It means a lot."

"Yeah. And, hey. Thanks for not punching me in the face. I probably would've, if I were you."

There is an ominous glint in her eye. "I don't know. We'll see how the rest of the year goes."

"Awesome," he grins.

They lean in for a hug, and, sure, there might be some lingering there. That's possible. But they pull apart with matching good moods **—** Jeff manages to resist the usual urge of patting Annie on the head, and though she feels that typical Jeff-inspired extra swell in her pulse, they separate easy.

"See ya," he says. 

* * *

><p>Inside the study room vent, Chang curls into a fetal position. He can't hear the group anymore, which means they're probably gone, which means he's been left hanging again.<p>

"I hate them," he cries to himself, and to Annie's Boobs, the monkey, which has started a new collection of stolen items **—** this time from Dean Pelton. So far, it's mostly dalmatian paraphernalia. And still Chang whines. "I hate them all. Worst study group _ever_, man!" 

THE END.


End file.
